


wander

by mimescreaming



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: :) put in a little, Bandages, Gen, How do I tag this shit, Mention of wounds, Other, Shit, UHHH SKULLY'S IDENTITY BIG AMBIGUOUS BUT, at one point masky gets Really mad at alex and mentions like, hint about my hc, i may have, idk man, ok this is gettin long byeee, reopening wounds or smth but, uhh masky's tim's alter, uhhhh, yeah idk man i'll fix these later im tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:50:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimescreaming/pseuds/mimescreaming
Summary: wan·der/ˈwändər/Learn to pronounceverb1.walk or move in a leisurely, casual, or aimless way.2.move slowly away from a fixed point or place.





	wander

**Author's Note:**

> hello. i'm,, tired dkjdhajdsjk  
> this fic is entirely based on the masky is tim's alter headcanon !! 
> 
> also im legally babey so like if there's spelling errors please tell me because this isn't proofread lmao
> 
> ive looked at the beginning like,,, once after writing it haha
> 
> anyways read with caution because i dont think there's anything like,,, Big but  
> i love y'all stay safe k byeee

He's sure he’s supposed to be enjoying this more. 

He supposes he is, in a way, but not the same.

Not how Tim would. 

If Tim were in this situation, his thought process would go along the tracks of sappy lines about feeling safe for the first time in a long time... then divulge into remorse for the life it took from them. 

Still, he’s not Tim, so all he feels is a strong sense of unease.

He looks down as much as he can without disturbing this... organic heater’s rest for an escape route. The arm that's wrapped around his ribs (tight, even now) is his best chance. It's also the worst option if he wants to succeed in keeping his partner asleep.

The intrusive thoughts urging him to move regardless of the outcome are inviting. Yet, something holds him back all the same.

And this confuses him. 

Is he annoyed (not afraid. not anymore.) about the inevitable repercussions of Brian catching him breaching their agreement? 

He considers himself a very good actor. The amount of times he’s succeeded in fooling Tim’s acquaintances is almost sad, to be honest. Even that paranoid camera boy has fallen for it, despite how close he thi- how close he thought he and Tim were. 

But never him. 

Never Brian. 

It’s pathetic how negatively it affects him to see how... almost disappointed Tim’s friend is once he realizes he’s not speaking with the right person. Disappointed, and weary for all the wrong reasons. 

It was almost two weeks ago when they agreed on the deal. When he was awake, their body stayed safe and sound at base. 

And while he can more or less understand the concern, he’s getting awful impatient lying here. 

Consequences damned, he decides, and lifts the arm confining him. A change in his partner’s breathing pattern causes him to still his breath as he hears shuffling behind him. 

It’s not until the sound of shallow breathing resumes that he relaxes, and sits up. 

From here, he glances over at the sleeping man on the ground next to him to look for signs of further disturbance. Finding none, he stands up, satisfied with his escape, and creeps out of the room.

He only gets a few feet from the door when his knee gives out. He stumbles, managing to catch himself before hissing in pain. He reaches down and rubs his knee as best he can from a weird angle, and begins to limp on his original path. It’s fine, once he’s out he can sit on a log or something and fix it. The pain’s worth it to get out of here for a night. He’s content to follow this path, until he glances to the left and sees his company. As annoying as they may be, his shoulders relax despite himself. 

A skull mask tilts, the white base and dark eyes visible in the dim moonlight. The camera’s pointed at him, a tiny red dot in the darkness blinking on and off to signal it’s use. The two of them stare at each other for a few moments before he sighs, and limps in their direction.

As he approaches, curious green eyes watch him from the sockets of their mask. Once he’s close enough, he puts three fingers on the side of the camera. The masked figure tenses in response, and he smirks. It's still... rather amusing how scared they are. Especially when their precious camera is at risk. He turns it towards the room’s only window.

The two of them look at eachother for a moment longer, before he turns in the direction of the door. After he starts making his way over, he manages to get about halfway there before the silence breaks.

A familar voice, hoarse from dehydration and lack of use, cuts through the darkness. "Where are you going?"

In a perfect world, he'd be able to walk (or limp) right out that door without a word in response.

And in a perfect world, he'd be able to ignore some facts. Facts like if he left, the skull-faced figure would go wake Brian up as soon as he was gone.

This is not a perfect world.

"For a walk." He replies, surprising himself with how... alive, and calm Tim's voice sounds. When was the last time he was awake?

At the replying silence, he turns to look at them again. The skull mask has turned to the window, watching for a being they both know won't come tonight.

Assuming the conversation is over, he turns back to the door, and starts to open it when the voice speaks again. "Does he know?"

Groaning under his breath, he pushes the door closed again, and leans on it to face them. "Who?" It sounds more like a statement than a question.

They look back at him, and he gets the strange feeling they're grinning under the drawn on teeth of the mask. "Either of them."

He goes to roll his eyes, but stops when he remembers they can see his expressions. And shit, that's weird. He's not... used to someone seeing him like this.

He must be more tired than he'd thought.

"No."

This time, he hears their laugh, and it's unsettling how it causes his heart to skip a beat. How he can feel his face instinctively start to smile.

He misses the mask.

"Well," they croak, settling back into their position facing the window, "Don't break any legs."

He shouldn't get angry.

He wishes he could.

Instead, he nods and leaves the room before they can interrupt his attempts again.

As he walks down the hall, he rubs under his eyes to try and wake himself up more. The wet skin he meets goes ignored- he doesn't cry. Especially not about dead birds.

He continues to limp down the hallway, trying to remember where he last hid his face.

From what he recalls, it should be somewhere in the kitchen. Assuming, of course, Tim didn't find it and throw it out. Again.

He creeps into the kitchen, glancing behind him to make sure they aren't following him. As soon as he's comfortable in their absence, he starts searching through drawers.

When that proves fruitless, he changes to the cupboards. Panic starts to rise in his chest as he realizes it's not in any of the familiar places.

He's about to huff in frustration, not keen on having to find another cover, when he finally finds it. Of course, it's behind the ice she got last week. He's stupid when he's trying to be quick.

The panic settling in his chest doesn't disperse until his face is back in place.

He breathes in as deep as he can through the plastic nostrils a few times before he finally feels safe again.

His feelings of security are immediately overwhelmed by sudden disgust. 

He's on the couch.

Kralie has one hand on the bandages around his neck, while the other is serving as a pillow for his right cheek.

Monsters don't deserve to sleep so well. Not when Tim still has nightmares over what he did as it's puppet. Not when they're still dealing with the repercussions of his actions.

Not when his leg still aches if he stands too long.

...

He realizes a bit too late that Kralie's eyes are open, and he's leaning on one elbow watching him.

"Are-" Alex coughs a few times into his hand, glancing at it before wiping it on the couch, "Are you leaving?"

Part of him wants to ignore him out of spite.

The calmer part sighs, and grits out, "Yeah."

Alex nods, wincing as it agitates his bandages, and looks at the floor.

Taking his silence as a sign they're done here, he begins to walk towards the back door.

"I'm sorry." 

And oh, that makes him angry.

He wants to punch him. Wants to tear off his bandages and scratch at the healing wounds until they reopen. Wants to smother him right then and there with his own two hands because what right does HE have to apologize? 

...Brian wouldn't like that. Neither would Tim.

The pain in his palms causes him to look down, uncurling his fist until he sees the little crescent marks in his skin.

He looks back at Alex and exhales a breath he didn't realize he'd taken.

The man on the couch doesn't look like a murderer anymore.

Kralie looks apprehensive, and something in those eyes looks... hollow.

"Good."

He opens the door, and steps out into the cloudless night.

**Author's Note:**

> peace signs poor tim just wanted to sleep without waking up in the middle of the woods at 4:37 am but F i guess


End file.
